Cursed Beauty
by Lenore483
Summary: Walburga Black was too beautiful for her own good.


Written for round 10 of the QLFC. This round we were supposed to write about a painting or ghost in Harry Potter. I got Walburga Black

Prompts Diagon Alley II:

Insanity (Bingo Card)

Walburga Black (Versatility Challenge)

Write about a poisoning of a mind. - Bezoar (Potions Club)

Write about a character considered to be insane. (Club Imperio)

(colour) Grey (Club Imperio)

Prompt: Word: Lust (Club Imperio)

(insult) Tart (Club Imperio)

QLFC Prompts:

#8 (image) .

#9 (quote) 'Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.' - Emily Bronte

#14 (dialogue) "Can't say I'm too fond of house-elves."

* * *

 _Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves – Emily Bronte_

Walburga knew how beautiful she was.

How could she not? The way a man's eyes would linger on her, even if he was talking to his wife; the compliments she received while growing up; even looking in the mirror proved to her that she was a thing of exceptional beauty.

Therefore, her marriage to another Black seemed exactly like the right thing to do. How else would she get exceptionally beautiful children?

Most people thought her marriage only stemmed from that and the desire to keep the family line pure, always. However, since Orion was the only one that Walburga could ever see as her equal, she loved him and him alone.

When they ventured out into pureblood society, Walburga kept mostly to her female friends. The few men she engaged with were introduced by their wives or her husband. She knew proper etiquette and kept away from men that wanted to engage her in conversation while she was unescorted.

However, her husband often looked at other women and admired them. Even if his thoughts did stray at times, he never cheated on her either. But to him, it didn't seem as impossible as it did to Walburga.

* * *

"Walburga, may I introduce, Mister Carrow?"

"How do you do, Mister Carrow," Walburga said and held out a hand to let him shake it. He turned the hand around and kissed the back of it. The excited whispers of her friends made her turn her face away from him. "Call me Amycus, please."

Walburga took the hand away when she figured she had endured his forwardness enough. "I wouldn't be that forward," she said.

Amycus Carrow chuckled at that. "Beautiful and modest, what a treat you are."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mister Carrow."

"I think it might get me everywhere, Walburga."

She crinkled her nose. "That's Missus Black to you," she said, hoping he would get the hint that he was unwanted.

"You're married?" he asked. "If you were my wife, I would lock you away from the eyes of men like me."

"Good thing you're not my husband then." She heard her friend, Missus Lestrange, laugh at her rude response, so Walburga turned to look at her in admonishment.

"Maybe I should whisk you away from prying eyes right now."

"You are too forward, Mister Carrow. Please leave me be until you've learned some manners."

He bowed to her and winked before leaving her with one last comment. "I'm glad to hear you wish for my return."

Before she could respond in the negative, he had left her with her friends who flocked around her to ask her questions.

Orion Black watched all of this transpire from his spot on the other side of the room.

"Alphard, do you know who that man is?"

"That is Amycus Carrow. He deals mostly in importing potions ingredients from Asia."

"What do you think he is doing talking to my wife?"

Alphard became quiet and avoided Orion's eyes at the question.

"What?" Orion said.

"Well, he is known for being quite the womanizer. Rumor is he has slept with half of the female pureblood society."

Orion clenched his fist by the side. For the first time, the burning feeling of jealousy overwhelmed him and clouded his mind. He might have looked at other women, but how dare his wife look at other men?

* * *

Walburga hung her coat away on the rack inside the door when Orion moved in close and trapped her against the wall. She could barely turn around in the small space between his arms, body and the wall. "What is it, Orion?" she asked.

"What were you doing, talking to that man tonight?" He looked down at her, clenching his jaw.

"What man?"

"Don't play coy with me! You were acting like a tart tonight, draping yourself over that uncivilised man in the presence of all of our friends."

"Orion, dear, I honestly have no idea who you are even talking about."

"Amycus Carrow."

"Oh, him. I found him rather annoying."

"Then why were you talking to him for so long?"

Walburga rolled her eyes at Orion, further enraging him, before she said, "I can't help how beautiful I am. I asked him to leave but he would not listen. Now let me go, I'm rather tired."

She looked up at him and stroked his arm. It calmed him down enough to drop one arm to his side to let her leave. His eyes stayed at the spot where she had been until she was halfway up the stairs. He looked after her just before she disappeared behind a bend in the stairs, but the image in his mind wasn't of her now; it was of her hand in Carrow's hand as his lips kissed her knuckles.

* * *

Walburga barely thought of the man again, even though she sometimes would run across him at different events.

Orion, on the other hand, could not lay the jealousy to rest. When he was away at business, his mind would conjure images of his wife and the strange man together.

One night, as he lay awake tossing and turning, he came to the realization that he needed a spy on his side. Someone completely loyal that would make sure his wife could not stray without him knowing.

"A house-elf?" Walburga asked, eyeing the creature like it had offended her by it's mere presence.

"Yes, isn't it wonderful?" Orion asked. For once, he was happy. In his opinion, the presence of a house-elf would calm him down and relieve any suspicions he had, and it would be a constant reminder for Walburga to stay faithful to him.

"Can't say I'm too fond of house-elves."

"I promise you will grow to be fond of him."

Walburga crossed her arms and looked from the house-elf to Orion. "What's it's name then?"

"His name is Kreacher."

Walburga looked at Kreacher once more before she shrugged and walked over to Orion. "Will this make you happy?"

"Yes."

She sighed before giving him a quick peck on the mouth. "Then I'm fine with it."

"Thank you."

* * *

For years the relationship with Walburga and Orion seemed to be fine, though Walburga could never get along with the creepy house-elf. She felt like it was always watching her.

It didn't drive her crazy until Orion commissioned a painting of her. She sat still for hours in their living room, while the house-elf would watch her and the painter from around the corner.

Therefore, when her cousin asked to borrow Kreacher for a day or two, Walburga couldn't say yes fast enough.

That night, as she fell asleep, a man she had forgotten about stepped into her house. Amycus Carrow had wanted her ever since that first night. At first, it had just been lust for the beautiful Lady Black. When she denied him time and time again, lust turned to obsession. His plan now was to tear her away from her jealous husband. The floorboards creaked underneath his feet and he paused, listening for sounds in the house. Everything was quiet; the only noise was his breathing.

After checking all the rooms downstairs, he made his way upstairs and finally, he found her room, with Walburga sound asleep.

Amycus crept closer, controlling his breathing and movements so he didn't make a sound. He stopped to admire her face before gently laying a red origami rose on her bedside table. A self-satisfied smile graced his features as he left.

* * *

 **Orion had come in later that night and fell asleep next to his wife. When he woke up, he looked over to where his wife was sleeping and found her missing. He heard the distant sounds of pots and figured she must be in the kitchen and smiled to himself. The smile died when he spotted the rose on her bedside table.**

He picked up the origami rose by its green stems and inspected it. A myriad of different reasons why it was there came to mind, but as he inspected the innocent looking paper rose he knew there was only one explanation; his wife was having sex with Amycus Carrow.

Orion clenched his fist, crushing the stem of the flower. He walked downstairs and found his wife making pancakes. As he entered, she looked up and smiled at him.

"What is the meaning of this?" he said.

Walburga scrunched up her eyebrows. "Meaning of what?"

"This!" Orion held up the rose and shook it.

"A rose?" she asked.

"Yes!"

"I don't know. What is the meaning of it?"

"Who did you get this from?" He reasoned she might have gotten it from someone else; maybe that was why she didn't see the significance.

"I've never seen that before in my life."

Orion clenched his jaw when he realized she wouldn't tell him. "Where is Kreacher?"

"Cousin Bella asked to borrow him. I said yes because he was driving me nuts."

Innocent words on her end, but in Orion's eyes they confirmed what he feared. He felt like his world was crumbling around him.

They had been silent for a while now; Walburga looking at him trying to gauge what he was thinking while he was despairing over what he thought his wife had done.

Suddenly, he turned and walked out of the room while Walburga called after him. He didn't stop until he was at the library. Part of him wanted to turn and forget the insane idea he had, but another replayed the kiss on her hand over and over again. It was that part of him that decided it must be done. It was dark magic but he wasn't about to lose his wife to someone like Amycus Carrow.

* * *

Walburga swayed on the chair and closed her eyes. It felt like her energy was being drained from her slowly every day. Of course, she had asked Orion about it but he had said it was probably because she was growing old.

She didn't notice the smug smile on Orion's face as she dropped the rose he had insisted should be in the painting. It was that strange origami rose that had him so upset a while back. She didn't understand why he wanted her to hold it but complied with his wishes.

The Black Family library had many spells that everyone thought had been lost centuries ago; this was one of them. It drained the life energy of someone and trapped them inside a painting. He would be able to keep his wife, forever. No one else would be able to have her again.

When the painter finished for the day he asked about her health.

"She is just feeling a little sick; nothing a little rest wouldn't be able to fix," Orion said and smiled a fake smile at the painter.

The painter looked like he wanted to say something, but then he shook his head. With an equally fake smile, he said to the Blacks, "I should be done with the painting tomorrow."

"Excellent!" Orion replied and escorted him out of the door before he could say anything else. As the door shut behind him, Walburga called out to Orion. He returned to the living room and helped her get up and got her into bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep. Orion stroked a few strands of her hair out of her face. It was interesting to see her beauty stripped from the human and given to the painting; the woman in his bed was just a shell of her former self.

"All will be well tomorrow," he promised her as he kissed her.

Walburga could barely function the next day. Orion was there the entire time, propping her up and supporting her while he made all the painter's worry go away with a few select words.

When, at last, the painting was done, he couldn't get the painter out of there fast enough.

"I don't feel so well," Walburga said when he returned. He watched as she was lifted up into the air to her feet by an invisible string pulling at her chest. Her hands hung by her sides and her head lolled as if she was too tired to hold it up.

Through half closed lids, she watched her husband smile at her. Then, the world seemed blurry and she felt her feet moving forward without her controlling them. It felt like she was pulled forwards and her feet were struggling to keep her upright.

The last thing she remembered before the world turned black was her husband looking content.

Walburga woke up to a grey, dull room and a window in front of her. The strange thing was that she couldn't seem to see the walls, while at the same time she knew they were there and could see their color.

"Orion?"

Through the strange window, she could hear a sound, but nothing inside the room made any sound except her voice. Her footsteps made no sound as she walked up to the window, nor did her own breathing.

"I'm here, darling," came a voice from the window.

If her husband was there, everything would be alright, she thought. When she looked through the window she saw the entry hall of their house.

"Where am I?" she asked.

Orion came into view and said, "You're inside your painting."

"What?" she asked, surprised by the revelation.

"You're trapped inside the painting."

Walburga touched the window and felt nothing. She checked her pulse and, once more, nothing. "What have you done?" she cried when she saw his smile and put it together.

"I made sure you could never betray me again."

"Betray you? I have never even kissed another man!"

"Don't lie to me! The man that gave you that rose—" He pointed to the rose she hadn't realized she was holding. "—slept with you! Why else would you send Kreacher away?"

"What are you talking about. What man?"

"Amycus Carrow!"

"I have never touched him!"

"Don't lie to me! There is no point now!"

"I would never cheat on you."

"Stop lying!" Orion cried as he tore at his hair.

Walburga shook her head while tears started falling down her face.

"Why didn't you just ask me?"

Orion looked up at his wife and realized that he had been wrong. He had never been wrong before in his life.

"I don't know," he said, though he knew the truth; he had been too proud to.

* * *

They barely talked after that. Walburga refused to let him see what being confined to a single chair and an infinite yet tiny room did to her. Orion refused to let her see that he was falling apart, too. He spent every day tearing through the library, wishing he could find a spell to rectify the problem.

Walburga didn't know that he hadn't followed the spell to the letter and it wasn't until much later that Orion noticed what it meant.

Walburga had begun shouting after him. Sometimes he could hear her screaming in the middle of the night. Other times, he would find Kreacher bowing to her and following some insane task he had been set to do. One day every vase in the house had been turned upside down, another day Kreacher had carried her painting around everywhere. Thankfully, they hadn't gotten far down the muggle street before Orion had noticed something was wrong and gotten them back. After obliviating several muggles, he fastened her painting to the wall so it could never be taken down, even by Kreacher.

It didn't stop her from trying to get Kreacher to do stuff, but when he said he could not due to Orion's orders, she started screaming at him and Orion.

Orion started wasting away while she lost her mind. The guilt ate away at him and nothing could fix it. Orion died the night before his son returned from Hogwarts.

* * *

Grey, that was what she had forgotten. Yes, like the colors of her prison, prisons are grey and that was what she had forgotten. Her house was grey, was that her prison?

"Mom, Dad?" A voice rang from the window. No, it didn't ring, it-—

She lost her train of thought and looked at her surroundings. Everything smelled of alcohol. No, not alcohol. Something similar, something wicked, something colorful. Yes, color! It was the paint that smelled. She really wished she had chosen a different color on her walls.

"Mom?" the voice asked.

Was it her it was speaking to?

"Disgraceful!" she exclaimed and momentarily focused on two eyes staring at her. Grey eyes, like the walls. Was it eyes, or was she staring at the wall again? How could she know the difference, what was the difference? Did it matter?

She knew how she could have it make sense, she needed the rose. The origami rose she always clutched in her hands, the only thing that hadn't turned grey in her prison, the only thing that didn't smell. She brought it up to her nose and took a deep breath. For a second she didn't smell anything, and her mind cleared a fraction.

"Son!" That was the appropriate response; she was proud of herself.

Regulus gulped and looked upset.

"What happened to Father?"

She looked at the rose trying to figure out what had happened. He had gone upstairs to—no he had gone downstairs. Or was that the other day? She held her rose, her anchor, harder but it didn't help clear her mind.

"I don't know, son."

Regulus walked upstairs and found his father's body. When he told his mother, her last thread of sanity disappeared.

The rose in her hand might have taken away her husband and her sanity, but she got to keep the one thing she valued above everything else, her beauty. She had become the literal picture of the Black family; beautiful and insane.


End file.
